Ever wondered where the desire to write started? I do, all the time. What makes my brain germinate ideas, characters and events which take over my mind and force me to write for hours? How come my friend can't conjure a single imaginative comment or phrase for a leaving card? Yet, I have too many for the tiny space allocated to me.
If you've followed this blog for a while you'll know that my love of books grew from circumstance - where I chose to escape within the pages of fiction. The phase prior to that escapism was Lego.
Seriously, as a young child I was a Lego kid - I could (and still can) make anything out of a big tub of Lego: houses, cars, even a stand-up Santa Claus! The true beauty of Lego is the appliance of imagination, without it you just have a coloured brick of various size - with a thriving imagination those bricks can be anything. I believe my initial phase of creativity nurtured by tiny bricks was my starting block to writing.
Knowing how the brain works in creating dendrites, I believe the network of my brain was formed and forged with that early imaginative play. The problem with the brain is the old 'use it or lose it' regime - it has been pure chance that since childhood I have always nurtured the creative juices - whether it be painting, crafting or music. All of which have kept those dendrite beauties alive and strong... ever eager to do more. My love of books kicked in at the age of eight which bolstered the budding imagination and eventually I out grew the books I was reading to fire the need to produce my own stories.
In hindsight it appears such a simple realisation, but I wonder if my parents understood the true potential of their gift when purchasing my first box of Lego? I doubt it.
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